Nope, totally get that.The thing with Jo Guest is that she had bags of personality. As most of us get older we really do go for personality over looks. I've never understood the whole Naomi Campbell thing as frankly her personality stinks. However if you say that you don't like her then you are racist. I much preferred Charmaine Sinclair (although she looks seriously rough on Studio 66) or the black lass who used to appear on the Kenny Everett Show.
We had a lass a school called Michelle Bxxxxxxx who was seriously nasty piece of work, but was quite pretty. I did at one point wonder if I was gay as everyone else raved about Michelle but I couldn't see the attraction. But then I knew her.
Michelle became a model. I saw her in my mam's Avon book. I also saw her in the Empire Stores catalogue and the story was that she was modelling nude in the West Indies. I think that she appeared in the Daily Star as "Michelle, 17, from Durham" in the days when it was legal to publish semi nude photos of 16 year olds.
I was out on the lash in Bishop Auckland one night when I saw her, surrounded by adoring hangers on. I may have said something along the lines of any idiot can be a model and she may have taken offence. I then said that even an ugly bugger like me could be a model.
I used to carry two items in my wallet as a teenager for walting/pulling women. My ROC "Civilian Identity Card" implied that I did secret squirrel stuff, or that I worked behind the bar in the NAAFI. The business card of a senior executive in the fashion industry lent credence to my claim to have been approached to be a male model. The latter was true. I was approached as a 17 year old to model sportswear and sports equipment. I turned down the £3k contract (a lot for a 17 year old in 1987) because although I was lean and sporty I had a spotty back (airbrush, anyone?) and although I have a perfect teeth I have a small mouth which makes my smile look like that of a serial killer. I'm not very photogenic, but that only shows when I'm actually photographed.
I showed Michelle the business card and she went apeshit. I had been approached by a more prestigious agency than hers and had turned them down. She really couldn't understand this.
Used to work with a girl called Lucy who had done a bit of nude work. Stunning girl, beautiful to look at, but as soon as she opened her mouth... she wasn't nasty, there just wasn't anything there. Not dim, quite, but... just... nowt there. I couldn't fancy her, much less fantasise about her.
Same with Lorraine at my next company. Didn't so much walk as glided, had a smile that would stop a clock, totally shattered the illusion the moment she spoke - 'Lorayyyyyynnne...' in a sarf Lahndahn accent.
Which was a písser; she was lovely but I couldn't get past it.
This post has been sent to you from a point in the past when I could afford to be more choosy.*
*Actually, a point in life where I couldn't understand why I wasn't get laid.